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January 23, 2007

1.23.07

Okay, so those first two wishes didn't work out so great...

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Stacy: It's All in the Fine Print

I gave the genie my best eat-shit glare. He smiled back blandly.

Two wishes wasted thanks to this smug bastard. Think, dammit. You’re smarter than this jumped-up lamp boy.

The genie whistled tunelessly and inspected his fingernails. I ignored him, thinking hard.

A perfectly fool-proof wish… something that’ll make you happy and fuck over this double-talking used flying rug salesman at the same time…

The genie conjured an armchair and sat down, sighing dramatically.

Ah, got it.

“I wish your ass would dispense sterile gold coins, one every twelve seconds, into this bowl, for the next 25 years.”

clink “OW!”

Read more from Stacy's .

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Jim: Treasure Your Wishes

“When you wish for something strongly enough,” my father once said, “your mind will make that wish come true.”

As a young man, I earnestly wished for a loving and beautiful wife. I married Nancy less than two years later.

Next, I wished for material wealth. That took somewhat longer: we weren’t comfortably wealthy for another twenty years. But hard work and tireless dedication to my goal eventually paid off.

Then Nancy left. I couldn’t blame her because I’d increasingly ignored her during my quest for money.

She cleaned me out during the divorce.

Now I wish I was dead.

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Jeff R.:True Tales From the Monkey's Paw

Here's the way the story's usually told: The first wish is for money. So the son dies, and the family get his insurance or pension. The second wish is for the son back, but he comes back as a brainless zombie. So the third wish is to have never found the Paw in the first place.

In fact, it only rarely works out that way. Most of the time the family either doesn't particularly miss the kid, who never did write or call. Or else they find having a zombie around the house useful.

The third wish is usually sexual.

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David: Perspective

Gary floated in the middle of his Olympic-sized swimming pool behind the mansion on the estate he bought with some of the money he won in the lottery. In the distance, he saw the glass door slide open and his wife -- the gorgeous, loving, sexually experimental, utterly faithful, genius supermodel -- step out, wearing a string bikini with less material than a cocktail napkin.

“Damn it,” he mumbled as he idly fiddled with the magic ring on his finger. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Wishes are supposed to backfire and ruin your life.”

Gary was a masochist.

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Ted: In for a Pound

I was two steps away from the door when Skinny appeared in front of me. Penny smacked my ass, screaming for me to stop.

"I really wish you'd stop that," I muttered under my breath.

Penny became dead weight on my shoulder.

"Thank you, master," hissed the bones, reaching for her.

"Stop!" I hollered, stepping back.

The damn thing stopped.

"One wish left, master. I'd love to eat her, but since you say no, I won't, even if you wish her back to consciousness. I never liked her, but surely you didn't lay claim to me just to silence her?"

Read more from Ted's .

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